Kascade
by candylyn
Summary: Batman has a new red clad obsession and Superman is having a hard time dealing. slash & HET
1. Two Hours Away

saga/title/fandom: Kaskade

author: Candylyn

rating/genre: (R to NC-17 (depends on how anal you are)) - angst, drama, romance

warnings: slash, het, angst, sexualcontent (eventually), language

summary: Batman realizesFlash is having trouble dealing with the changes within theLeague. (Slash) Don't like don't read.

comments/disclaimers: I don't own, just going to torture them a bit.

Chapter One: Two Hours Away

It felt late. According to Wally's digital clock it was only 10 at night but it felt much, much later than that. He wondered, for the first time in two years, exactly what time zone Batman used when setting the clocks on board the Watchtower. Because, it had to be later than 10 pm. Well, he was sure it was 10 pm somewhere on Earth, just not in Keystone City. Probably 3 in the morning there. Or at least that was what Wally's brain was telling him.

He had read once that your body has an internal clock that just knowns what time it is. That's why you get sleepy around the same time every night and seem to wake up around the same time every morning. He never believed that before, but now he was starting to wonder. He briefly considered asking Batman about it... but that would involve talking to Batman.

Wally flopped back down on his bed, instantly, he regretted doing so. The moment his head touched down on the pillows his brain exploded. He'd had his super zippy ass handed to him last mission. He had just been discharged from medical in fact. Okay discharged may not be the right word for getting up and walking out when all the staff wasn't around.

He glanced up at his clock again, it was now 10:01. Wow, a whole minute, he thought to himself bitterly. Boredom was setting in hard, but there was nothing to do, which only made it worse.

Getting a workout in was out; Diana had trashed the training room... again. Parts were due to be delievered in the morning. Plus he was injuried, last thing he needed or wanted was a speech from Superman about knowing his limits and other assorted take-better-care-of-yourself-Wally stuff.

He'd already raided the Mess Hall; stole, and consumed, a gallon of John's prized whitehouse cherry ice cream. He was certain John would kill him in the morning for that one.

He hated times like this. He was exhausted but not sleepy. He'd managed to slow himself down to normal speed, but everything still felt too slow.

After leafing through yet another magazine Wally craned his neck to look at the clock, it was now 10:03 pm.

"Damnit," Wally cursed the clock. The clock declined to respond, formally, but Wally could have sworn it was snickering at him.

"Okay, I need to do something other than lay here, I am getting loopy. Clocks don't laugh at you... everyone else does," the self-deprevating comment caught Wally off guard for a moment. Yeah, he needed to get out of the room before his dressers and other furnature started dancing and a tea cup that looked like Angela Lansbury began singing to him.

As Wally got off of his bed, he took a good look around his quarters. For the first time in a very long time his room was neat and clean. He'd cleaned it two days ago. Even dragged Diana in to see it, like some getty teenager trying to rack up brownie points with his mother before asking for a raise in his allowance.

He could go and bother John. John wouldn't mind, he never minds. Which is weird. Wally couldn't figure him out most of the time. He loved the old surly marine, definately, but he wasn't completely sure why John would willing tolerate him. John was a cape and a cowl away from being Batman. Why would someone as mature and together as John want to spend large chunks of time with a speed freak kid like him? Did he miss Shayera so much that any redhead would do? Not fair, John probably just likes him.

Remember, Wally chimes to himself, they all did go insane when you died in that other universe.

And what the hell was with all these... people on the station? Before Shayera left/got booted it was only the seven of them. Everyone took turns doing station chores. Batman, John and Shayera usually dealt with the computers and structural stuff while the rest of them did everything else. And yes watching Superman load a dish washer, dressed in tights and a cape, is a surreal experience. Now there were all these people, support staff Batman calls them, running around. Are they paid? If so, who pays them? And where's my check, damnit? Wally bemoaned to himself.

Living college scholarship rebate check to college scholarship rebate check wasn't easy. You only got paid twice a year that way and you have to do all this planning in order to make the money last and cover the bills. He managed, though.

Wally looked over at the clock, 10:04. "Shessh!"

By 10:06 Wally was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and his infamous cookie monster slippers and headed for John's room. Maybe John had a movie he hadn't seen. Maybe not. They had pretty much ransacked each others' collections over the years and saw anything new immediately. Still, watching a movie with John was more fun than watching it alone.

Wally reached John's door, the Green Lantern symbol was proudly etched on it at eye level. He raised his fist to knock...

"He's on a mission," the sudden appearance of that oh so familiar icy voice made Wally want to jump out of his skin. Visibly shaken, Wally turned to him. He drew breath to say thank you but Batman spoke again, "You belong in medical."

"I am good," Wally said, a little surprised by what sounded like concern coming from Batman. Wally had always gotten the impression that Batman loathed him, tolerating him only because of what he contributed to the team. Maybe that was the reason for the concern, no other real speedsters on the team.

"No you're not, report to medical now," Batman ordered in a threatening tone.

"I am fine. Thanks for letting me know about John." Wally turned away and started off down the hall. He took exactly three steps before becoming so dizzy that his legs gave out. When the world stopped spinning Wally found himself in Batman's arms in front of the door that lead to medical.

"Does this mean you like me?" Wally asked looking up at Batman. He didn't get a reply. The door hissed open and Batman struted in like he wasn't carrying a fully grown man that weighted 175 pounds in his arms.

It only took a second for Batman to realize that the place was deserted. Which explained how Wally managed to leave. Unacceptable. He made a mental note to terminate the night medical staff.

Batman entered the first cubicle on his right, then gingerly placed Wally on the observation bed. Suddenly, the darkened space blinked and hummed to life. Wally's weight on the mattress was enough to activate the monitors, lighting and other medical equipment. "Lay back," Batman whispered.

Wally did as he was told this time. But he had to know how Batman knew, "How'd you..."

"Before John left he said you were getting restless down here. He figured you might leave when no one was paying attention. He asked if I would keep an eye on you until he got back." Wally wanted to nod his understanding but thought better of it. His head was killing him. Batman was checking the monitors when he added, "Besides, John will appreciate that I kept you alive so he can kill you himself."

"Shit," Wally groaned. Shit. The ice cream. He was so dead. Wait a minute... "When did John come down and talk to me?" Wally asked. He had no memory of that conversation. Batman's reply came in the form of a thoughtful glance. A glance that let Wally know whatever thoughts his question triggered, in Batman's brain, weren't exactly good ones.

Batman was silent for a long stretch of time as he checked Wally. He poked and proded him with the same annoyingly methodical methods the doctor had used earlier. Wally didn't complain this time though. Complaining to a doctor about his bedside manner was one thing, complaining to Batman about anything was just... well suicidal.

Batman stepped out of the cubicle for a moment and Wally followed him with his eyes until he noticed a clock on the wall, it was 10:22 pm. He had to laugh, all this shit had gone done in the span of sixteen minutes. It was confirmed, this was going to be a long night.

"Something funny?" Batman asked from across the room. Wally could see him flipping through a chart.

"Yes," Wally said tiredly, "this is going to be the longest night of my life."

"How so?"

"Because it already is. I feel like it should be like 3:30 in the morning or something but it's only 10:30... not even that yet," Wally smiled, perfect time to ask about the time zone thing. "By the way, what time zone do you use to set the clock around here?"

Wally looked up in time to see Batman return, cape swirling, to the cubicle. He stood there for a moment watching Wally. "Wally, what day of the week is it?"

Stupid question, "Thursday."

"No, it's Saturday, Wally."

"WHAT?!?" Now that was just bullshit.

"You were down here for the better part of two days. John has been gone a day. He said you were awake but a little flighty when he came to see you before..."

"Hedidn'tcometoseeme," Wally hammered out nervously as he struggled to sit up right, "youguysdroppedmehereandandand...," his mind went blank.

Batman placed surprisingly gentle hands on Wally's shoulders and eased him back down onto the mattress. The kid was viberating slightly, a sure sign he was scared. Batman couldn't blame him, he was missing time, whole days.

According to his chart, Wally had been diagnosed with a reasonably mild concussion. But if the man was missing time, Batman was sure his concussion was much worse than the doctors had diagnosed. Again, unacceptable. He made a mental note to replace the day shift as well.

"Wally, stop, take a deep breath," Batman said as gently as he could manage without slipping into Bruce. Wally stared at him, confused for a moment, then eased back. "Now, you should be fine, but I need you to stay in medical for the night. You need rest, I don't want you walking around. Understand?"

"Yes," Wally shot back quickly.

"I set the system to run some tests on you. I don't think you're in any danger."

Batman got a heavy blanket from the cabinet next to the cubicle and then tucked Wally in. The younger man had to smile. He never knew Batman could be like this. Nice, sort of.

"You need to eat. You aren't healing as quickly as you should be able to, considering your metabolism, because you haven't eaten in almost three days. I'll bring you something."

Wally's reply was soft and almost inaudible. Batman lowered the lights in the cubicle and turned the volume down on the monitoring equipment before leaving.

He returned a half hour later, 10:57 pm.

Placing the plate he'd prepared on a nearby serving tray, Batman moved to Wally's side. The young man had drifted off to sleep. Batman allowed himself a rare and real smile as he watched him sleep. No teeth, just the corners of his mouth easing up.

In sleep, Wally looked like a child. It's easy to picture him as an angel-faced but mischievous 10 year old running around causing all kinds of trouble. Batman also imagined the kid's smile or his infamous puppy dog eyes getting him out of whatever punishment all his misbehavor should have earned him. John and Diana fell for his tactics often.

Wally was painfully young, only 19, but he had been 17 when the League first formed. Batman had been leery about someone his age being involved in something as serious as the League, his childish behavior didn't help either. Both Tim and Dick were years younger than Wally had been when they assumed their roles as Batman's assistant, but they were far more mature than Wally had ever been. But Wally had proven himself, time and again, worth his position within the League. And as much as Batman hated to admit it, even to himself, the kid was the glue that held the team together. Or at least the core seven...six members.

Batman knew that Wally saw the League as his family. With his parents AWOL for most of his life and both his Uncle Barry, the original Flash, and his Aunt Iris dead it's no wonder he would fixate on the team. But it also helped that everyone seemed eager to play the roles he'd assigned them without him even having to ask. John and Shayera, happily assumed the roles of mother and father. While Diana and Clark filled the roles of big sister and brother. With grandpa J'onn bringing up the rear. So, Batman wondered, where did that leave him? The spooky uncle, maybe?

He and Flash were not close and that was by design. He didn't need another liability; Tim, Dick, Alfred and Barbara were enough. The last thing he needed was another person to lose. But to be honest he already knew losing Wally would hurt, terribly. The Justice Lord's Batman was proof of that.

It was better to keep all of them, including and especially Wally, at arms length though. He knew the kid more feared him than respected him and that was fine. When no one else could get the boy to do what needed to be done, a simple glare or growl from Batman would straighten him out instantly.

Still, Batman had this... want... desire, to have Wally look at him the same way he looks at John. Wally respected John, liked John, would move heaven and earth for John. Not even Tim looked at Batman that way. His wards were as suspicious of Batman as he was of them. They cared for each other but his relationships with them was... different... difficult.

Wally and John's relationship reminded Batman of... of his own relationship with his father before he was murdered. John was always loving and indulgent while managing not to spoil him. And Wally was thrieving off the attention. Batman wonders what would have happened to Wally if John had gotten that transfer to Oa he requested. Had John even thought about the kid when he put in the request?

"Wally," Batman said loud enough to wake him but not scare him.

Wally flinched a bit but didn't open his eyes, "Huh?"

"Wake up. You need to eat."

Wally's strawberry blonde lashes fluttered then parted as he woke. He looked over at the plate and muttered, "Gross, vegetables."

"Eat," Batman wasn't even close to mad at the kid but he flexed his voice as if he were. It got the desired effect. Wally sat upright, albeit slowly, and ate. Batman stood right there. He was fairly certain Wally won't toss the vegetables but there was that paranoid part of his brain telling him to stay put, just in case.

Wally attacked the broccoli first, which Batman heaved on the plate in large quantities. Then he ripped into the two baked potatoes and the steak sirloin tips swimming in gravy. Oddly enough he saved the glass of orange juice for last. Having finished his dinner, Wally reclined back patting his puffed mid section. "Wow, you can cook?"

"Leftovers, from yesterday," Batman corrected. Wally was about to say that chicken had been served in the Mess Hall yesterday but remembered that he had missed the real yesterday. His yesterday was two or so days ago. Confusing? Yes.

"Am I ever going to get those two days back?" Wally asked as he hunkered back down and under the covers.

"Doubtful, but anything is possible," Batman replied. "Rest, I'll check back with you in a few hours. If you need anything press the red button next to your bed."

"Okay," Wally whispered, sounding for all the world like a little kid home from school with the flu.

Batman watched him settle down. Turning, Batman began to leave but Wally's soft "Batman," stopped him in his tracks.

"Yes?"

"Thanks... for everything."

"You're welcome, Wally."

The time... 12:00 am.


	2. Sleeping Beauty Awakens

**saga/title/fandom:** Kaskade

**author:** Candylyn

**rating/genre:** (PG-13 for now) - angst, drama, romance

**warnings:** slash, het, angst, sexual content (eventually), language

**summary:** Batman realizes Flash is having trouble dealing with the changes within the League. (Slash) Don't like don't read.

**comments/disclaimers:** I don't own, just going to torture them a bit.

**Chapter 2: Sleeping Beauty Awakens**

Wally hates hospitals. He also hates doctors. Nurses are cool... as long as they are cute... and don't come packing needles. He hates those too.

He hates doc-speak too. All those big Latin sounding terms that usually translated to "You are sick, take this, get some sleep and slack off for a few days until you fell better."

Usually.

This time, though, Wally wasn't so sure if things would be that simple.

On the upside his head felt better. He was starving. He guessed those were a good things. On the downside, he is certain that the instillation of an I.V. drip and having been quietly moved into the I.C.U. while he slept couldn't possibly be good. Nope not at all.

When he awoke Wally heard a lot of raised voices and terms like _outrageous_ and_incompetent_ being volleyed around like a ball at the beach. Batman's voice was in the mix, darker and more angry than normal. Then there was John's voice. Wally thanked whatever Gods that weren't trying to take over the world this week that John had never been so mad at him to use _that _tone of voice with him... ever.

Making matters worse was the knowledge that this argument was happening in the next room. A room that was supposed to be sound proof. Yet, he was still able to make out a good bit of what was being said.

He just laid there, listening to the conversation in the next room. He'd gotten good at that when he was little. His folks argued... a lot. Asking them directly what was going on was a big no-no that usually resulted in bodily harm. Better to just listen, grab what little crumbs of conversation he could, let his overactive imagination fill in the blanks and hide whenever his name came up.

Any wonder he's so screwed up?

Soon, new words like _misdiagnosis, aneurysm_ and _narrowly averted de_ath started popping up in between screamed obscenities. Wally knew all too well what the last statement meant. He had _narrowly averted death_, on at least a monthly basis, since he six. _Misdiagnosis_ , he remembered from the S.A.T.s. It means something like _the doctors made the wrong call_ . But what the hell does _aneurysm_ mean? Wally couldn't even begin to spell it much less define it.

Falling back on his imagination-reinforced detective abilities learned in childhood, Wally figures Bats and GL are pissed because the doctors misdiagnosed him and whatever was really wrong with him almost cost him his life. Maybe he has aneurysm; -isms were diseases, right, so maybe aneurysm was an illness. Some kind of cancer in his head. Doctors do give cancers names other than cancer, like leukemia.

**Panic**.

"Oh God," Wally gasped. He had cancer. He had a tumor... in his head! "Oh God!"

Without thinking, Wally sprang upright in the bed and started fighting with blankets neatly tucked in on the sides. Immediately, the headache from hell was back robbing him of all his strength. The machinery around him started clucking and squawking loudly compounding his pain.

Suddenly, a pair of strong hands were pushing at his chest, "Wally?"

In that instant Wally went completely limp. There was only one person in Wally's universe who's voice could hold that much authority while still managing to calm him, "John?"

"He's coming around," John turned and barked to someone.

Turning back John smiled down at the strawberry blond. "You scared the shit out of me, kid," though his words were acidic his tone was jovial.

"I'm dying," Wally said flatly.

He felt John's hand clutch his. "No," John said sounding almost amused, "you're going to be fine. Looks like that thick head of yours came in handy for once."

He wasn't going to die? "Butwhataboutthecancerinmyhead..."

"Shhhhhh," John whispered as he stroked Wally's forehead in an effort to calm him down. "Not cancer Wally, an aneurysm?" He squeezed the younger man's hand. "Know what that is?"

"Cancerit'scancerand..."

"It's not cancer," John reassured him. "What in the hell are they teaching you at that college of yours anyway?" John groaned. While Wally remained quiet, his expression was one of complete terror and fear.

It was clear the younger man had gotten it in his head that he was dying. While that may have been true several hours ago it wasn't now. Still, John knew he was going to have to take baby steps with his explanations; else Wally might fly into a hysterical fit again. "Look kiddo, you got hit in the head last mission you were on. Remember?"

A few quiet seconds passed as Wally processed the question. Finally he replied, "Yeah, I remember."

"Good. The hit to your head damaged a large blood vessel causing it to burst. That is an aneurysm."

"Not cancer."

"No," John's reply was short and pointed but given with a smile.

Oh, this was blackmail material if ever there was some. When Wally was back up to speed, pun intended, John would never let him live this down. "You need rest, your body will heal itself in time Speedster."

Wally just looked at him, disbelief still coloring his features, "But... can you die from that too?"

John smirked, "Yeah, Hotshot, most can. But your simple assed metabolic rate stopped that from happening. But you're still weak and you could damage yourself again if you go running around like some kind of idiot. Got me?"

"Yeah." Wally's body went completely still again and John helped him recline back onto the mattress.

"Good."

"And it's not cancer?" Wally asked.

"Not cancer," John replied. Half a heartbeat later Wally was asleep again.

John waited until he was certain the younger man was completely asleep before letting go of his hand. He brushed back a few stray red-gold curls from Wally forehead before taking a seat on the window bench near Wally's bed.

The view was breathtaking. The Watchtower was on the night-side of Earth; hovering just above Togo in West Africa. Chance positioning made the Earth look like a ring and the sun like a shining jewel sitting atop it. Another few minutes and they would be passing over North America. Closing his eyes just for a moment John whispered a quiet prayer to a God he rarely speaks to anymore, thanking him for allowing Wally to live to see this view again.

hr

In another room, behind tinted glass, dark blue eyes watch the tender scene unfold. A hysterical Flash claimed down by his ever present and loving father figure, Green Lantern.

The others in the room are forgotten as Batman watches John tend to the young man. First, gently restraining him and calming him. Then explaining the situation with carefully selected words in a firm but kind tone. Finally, John simply watches over Wally as he falls back to sleep, comforted by his "father's" affirmation that he will be fine.

Quiet moments pass. John releases Wally's hand, resting it on the boy's chest. Patting it lovingly before leaving his side to take up position on a nearby window bench.

Batman knows John will not leave Wally's side until the young man is awake and alert and himself again. He will be there for him in the days to come; watching him like a hawk to ensure he doesn't over exert himself.

He wonders if John'll even tuck Wally into bed and read him a bedtime story too. But that is the cynical jealous side of his complex psyche talking now.

Behind him he hears the uncomfortable fumblings of the doctors he and John had been "talking to" before Wally's outburst. Papers being shuffled. Files being stacked. Rubber soles moving across the marble floor. The kind of background noises Batman can no longer block out even if he wanted to.

"Doctors," he hisses without turning away from the glass window, "I assume our position is clear. You are relieved of duty, effective immediately."

"But..."

All arguments against their termination died when Batman's head turned slowly. Narrowed white eyes regarded the group coldly, "Leave... now."

The gathered group of physicians looked to one another. Few were willing to take on the Batman, especially with Green Lantern in the other room. While angry, Lantern had been rational enough to at least listen to their defensive arguments. Batman, on the other hand, had seemed more than ready to say his peace and flush the lot of them out of the airlock without benefit of protective gear. Now he just looked as if he would truly enjoy ripping them limb from limb.

"Very well," one of the two female doctors, Dr. Corbin, stated with her head held high, "but I doubt it seriously that you will be able to replace the entire medical staff. Our termination with _you people_ is final. In the event of a tragedy I kindly ask you not to call upon any of us for service."

He couldn't help the bitter smile. "We already had a _tragedy_to which you were called to tend to and dropped the ball, Dr. Corbin. We won't make the mistake of doing so again."

His comment was meant with indignant gruffs and sounds of people gathering their belongings in a hurry. Most of their non-League related files and other belongings had already been packed and transported to their private offices and/or homes planet side, so it didn't take them long to gather what they brought to the meeting.

Twenty-seven seconds later they were gone. But the conflict was far from over. There would be Clark to deal with. Their self appointed leader will have a hissy fit when he finds out that Batman fired the entire medical staff without consulting him first.

Fuck him. He can lead the team all he wants but Wayne dollars bank roll this operation and Batman be damned before he'd pay good money to incompetent physicians. Idiots knew full well that Flash's metabolic rate was faster than any human beings. If he came in with a mild concussion they should have realized that it started out much, much worse. He shouldn't have been left alone in any regard. It's clear they are not up to dealing with the medical needs of a team of superpower beings. They had to go.

He knows John and possibly Diana will back him up on it. The others, the newer members, don't have enough pull yet with Clark to carry any weight either way. Still, the last thing he wants is lecture from the brick-from-the-sticks on not making decisions that could effect the team by himself.

With the empty observation room, Batman turns his attention back to the young man asleep in the bed. While he was healing, it was taking a ridiculously long time considering his metabolism. He knows this is a catch 22 situation, the severity of Wally's injuries weakened him and his metabolic rate now causing him to heal slower which will keep him weaker longer.

He'll need watching. John's right, the boy's hard headed. The minute he thinks he is okay he'll be up and in the ice cream again. The damaged area was healing but very slowly, the bleeding had stopped but the new tissue was fragile. If Wally's blood pressure spiked or if he is bumped around too much the tissue could rip causing him to hemorrhage and possibly die.

He knows John will do what he can, they all will. Still, Wally needs round the clock care and monitoring given by someone with medical training that _he_ trusts. Someone that will literally but foot-to-ass if Wally gets out of hand.

Again, the smile on his lips can't be helped as the answer to who should babysit the speedster comes to him.

"Computer," Batman called out.

"_Computer on line, Batman_."

"Contact Wayne Manor's secure line."

A few moments passed. "Batman, how may I be of service?" Alfred answered.

"Get the guest room ready, Alfred."


	3. Motives

**title**: Kaskade 

**author**: Candylyn

**rating/genre**: teen to adult for now - angst, drama, romance

**warnings**: slash, het, angst, sexualcontent (eventually), language

**summary**: Batman realizes Flash is having trouble dealing with the changes within the League. (Slash) Don't like don't read.

**comments/disclaimers**: I don't own, just going to torture them a bit.

Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. Originally I was just going to let this go with only one chapter but after rethinking how the League members interact and realizing that if these people were real they would all be candidates for the loony bin I decided to keep going.

I have plotted this thing out pretty far. I am not sure when I will be able to post again, but I will. Please forgive me taking my time to get to the action/sex. This is a romantic drama not porn with a plot, not that there is anything wrong with porn with a plot! Thanks to Jon for all you input and too Dimitri **:-** . To the rest of you **XOXOXOXO**.

**FYI:**_ Asociopath is more violent then a psychopath. A futon is a bench like sofa with a mattress like cusion that folds down to a full sized bed._

**Chapter Three: Motives**

He'd been here three times before. Twice on League business and once to play poker. Exactly how Clark managed to talk him into coming was a mystery... well not really, but some things were better left to history.

Wally's apartment had looked like ground zero for a teenage flavored h-bomb during his first two visits. The floor was a minefield of denim, tees and pizza boxes. The kitchen looked more like the dank basement laboratory of some mad scientist in an old 1930's serial. Nothing was in it's place but then Batman was certain that nothing had a place to begin with.

The third time, the poker game, the place had looked better. John, no doubt, put foot-to-ass and got Wally to clean the place. Still, it was clear that Wally had haphazardly hidden what he could, chucked the rest then drowned the place in bleach and Mr. Clean.

Now the whole space was eerily spotless; cleaned with military precision. Had to be John's doing. The man was evil when it came to cleaning. Not even Alfred was as methodical as John was. Wally once _joked_ that it was impossible to mess up John's quarters because everything had been _trained_ _to return to its appointed location after being used_.

The futon was upright; clean bedding had been neatly folded and rested in the middle. The hardwood floors were gleaming. The blue area rug under the coffee table looked brand new. The electronics had been wiped down. The pine end tables, TV cabinet and the butcher's block counter top of the breakfast bar, which separated the kitchen from the living space, had been polished to a shine. And all of Wally's accent pieces had been neatly placed in the most logical spots.

Order out of chaos, John's specialty.

God only knows what he did to the bathroom. Wally had never let that room go to hell like the rest of the studio, but it wouldn't be surprising if John had ripped everything out and remodeled the whole space.

John did that, whenever things got out of his control he cleaned or moved something, like furniture… or asteroids. It was a control issue. Overwhelmed by feelings of helplessness and lack of control, people like John turn their frustration into a creative, or destructive, force.

Batman's hypothesis was that John felt he had no control over Wally's condition. Since he couldn't help Wally one way he found another, clean his apartment until it shined.

He understood the man. They were more alike than Batman cared to admit. Their only difference was motive.

Batman noticed a shoebox sized container on the end table near the front door. A series of photo envelopes were filed in one behind the other like good little soldiers.

Recovering the box, Batman seated himself on the futon and began going through it. Each envelope was labeled, by John. His handwriting, though readable, was the only thing about him that wasn't neat.

The first envelope was a hodge podge of baby pictures, school photos and candid pictures of Wally at his grandparents' farm in Snowden, Kansas. In each photo Wally looked desperate and hungry. Those beautiful green eyes looked dead and tired.

There were no pictures of his biological parents.

The next few packages held photos of his Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry, the original Flash. Wally was in a great many of them, too. A boy of nine or ten, all bright green eyes and sun-kissed freckles, smiling with all the joy a child his age should have. Most of the pictures were of birthday parties, fishing trips, even a few at the police lab were Barry worked.

The familial resemblance between Iris and Wally was striking. Iris and Wally were the cross gender equivalent of each other. Both having those same emerald eyes, strawberry blond hair and rusty freckles; the only differences between them were gender related.

The best picturesof the trio were taken at Barry and Iris' wedding. Wally was about 13; he was all legs, arms and big feet stuffed into a black suit with a silver-white tie and white dress shirt. Handsome Barry had on a well tailored tuxedo. And Iris was the picture-perfect bride, dressed in a tasteful yet slinky pure white evening gown.

They were in Vegas. The wedding took place atop a high rise hotel, but there weren't enough clues in the photos to figure out which. It was just the three of them, the justice of the peace and whoever was taking the pictures.

The photos told the story of the wedding, perfectly. Wally not only gave away the bride but served as the best man, too. He looked so damned happy, like a kid at Christmas getting exactly what he asked for.

A happy little family. Something inside Bruce broke.

The last four envelops were filled with pictures of _them_, out of costume or course. Wally burned through a whole roll of film during the poker game. He got each of them at quiet moments or while they ate dinner; an assortment of Chinese from Ming Fong's three blocks away.

Two envelops were assorted pictures of them at different times. Half a roll taken on a tour of the Daily Planet. He got three with Clark, who smiled as openly and 'honestly' as ever. A few more showed Diana and John close to a striking blond haired man with a forced smile, J'onn, at a Detroit Lions game.

The last two packs of pictures were taken just a few months ago over the Christmas and New Year holidays. After the mess with Shayera and the reformation of the League with new members, Wally had been worried John would try to work himself into emotional coma over the holiday. So Wally put his foot to John's ass for a change and made him go to NYC for the holiday, sans spandex.

Sight seeing, silliness in the hotel and, of course, Christmas morning gift opening had been captured. Wally got a laptop, John got a new leather coat and matching driving gloves. There were several pictures of the pair in Times Square watching the apple drop surrounded by a sea of people. Both smiling, always.

A father and son on holiday in the Big Apple; the pictures told the story.

"You know," a quiet said, "breaking and entering is illegal?"

"Nothing is broken," Batman replied without looking up. He didn't need to, he'd know that damned boy scout's voice anywhere.

Superman soundlessly glided in through the open window. Though they were alone, Batman was certain he heard cheers and fanfare.

"That's not the point," Superman stated.

"You're here, coming in through the window," Batman pointed out while putting away the photos, " No key, no real reason…"

Superman snorted, "One day you will realize when I am joking."

Batman looked up at him.He always felt naked without his _skin_ and utility belt on. More so when the brick-from-the-sticks was around. Knowing that little green rock was within reaching distance was… satisfying.

Emotional crutch much?

"I heard you are moving Wally to the Manor," Superman's voice dropped the pomp becoming that of Clark Kent, "why?"

Batman looked up at him, his expression corkscrewed becoming a mix of disgust and pity. He could careless that his emotions were exposed without the mask to cover him. "With no medical staff to speak of and considering Wally's track record of leaving medical facilities before he is ready, I thought it best to move him where someone could keep a constant eye on him."

Batman didn't like the Kryptonian's sudden change in body language.

"Alfred?" While Clark had guessed who would be babysitting Flash it didn't seem to sit well with him. Superman was still in _Clark-mode_ but he knew at any second...

"Yes, Alfred will see to it that he gets rest."

Clark stiffened, and suddenly, Superman was back. "Again, you're making decisions…"

Batman remained calm but he knew where this was going. "Who was I supposed to discuss this with, Clark, you? Wallace is a grown man, he agreed..."

"I am sure he had choice?" Superman's voice oozed with enough sarcasm to choke on. Only Batman knew he'd never be so lucky.

"Not really. I think we all would agree that taking him to a hospital or even hiring a private nurse would be a bad idea. Still, he needs proper medical attention. "

"And whose fault is it that we don't have a _proper_ medical staff?"

There are very few things in this world that got under Batman's skin like having someone talk down to him. "Is it really so damned important for you to have everything your way?" Batman's voice was still calm but a bitterness was starting to creep in. "Flash almost died three nights ago. They left him alone because of a scheduling conflict they didn't bother to tell any of us about. You are a bigger fool than I imagined if you consider that a tolerable situation."

Superman backed down... a bit. "You're right, that was an intolerable situation, but what is equally intolerable is how you make snap decisions that affect everyone without consulting anyone."

This was an ancient battle between iron will and inflated ego. Nothing but massive amounts of property damage could come of it.

"This discussion ends now," Batman ground out between clenched teeth. "I came here to get some of his things. If you aren't here to help, leave."

"Case and point," Superman shot back.

Batman said no more. Getting off the futon, he made a beeline for the closet next to the bathroom. That's when Superman saw the photos. One pack lay on the end table while the others were neatly resting in a wooden box. He had noticed Bruce had been looking at them when he arrived.

Clarkhad seen most of them before. Wally wasn't the type of person to push family photos in your face but he neverhad a problem withpeople looking through his things when they visited. And Clark visited a lot. Not as much as John though, but definitely more than Bruce.

The wheels in Clark's mind started turning. Something was really wrong. Batman was brilliant, passionate, capable but above all else he was obsessive. His obsession with his parent's deathwas the driving force behind Bruce's ascension to Batman, now Clark worried that Bruce may be developing a new obsession… a strawberry blond, green eyed freckle faced obsession that could lead to more trouble than imaginable.

"Why?" Clark asked. "You never gave a damn about Wally before…"

Superman had only been on the receiving end of **_The Look_** once before. **_The Look_** that lets you know youjust pushed Batman across the line from being a psychopathic genius to nefarious sociopath.

And there was a difference.

Clark backed away, not out of fear, though. Batman, sans gear and gadgets, was _only_ human after all, but when he was like this he seemed to forget that. The man needed room to breath; to get his head together and regroup.

Still, Clark knew that Batman's memory was long and he liked to hold grudges. Doing so gave himthe edge, oddly enough. He knew how to use his anger and bitterness to his advantage. Clark could only imagine what would come of this little encounter, but that wasn't what worried him. What worried him was the _root_ of Bruce's anger towards him. He only prayed he was wrong.

The hardness in Batman's eyes slowly fell away. Soon the Dark Knight just sneered at the Man of Steel before resuming his task of gathering Wally's things.

Clark knew they were done… for now.


	4. Investigative Reporter

Author Notes: Sorry this took so long, real life is a witch needing to be slain! Any who, I can not promise when the next update will be, because real life is a witch needing to be slain. Enjoy.

Chapter Four: Investigative Reporter

Over the last few days Clark had become increasingly suspicious of Bruce's desire to have Wally at the mansion. Clark had known Bruce long enough to realize that the dark detective of Gotham was a master at manipulating the people and elements around him. Clark was starting to wonder if all of this was some elaborate Batman-controlled set up to get his hands on Wally, but it was the _why_ behind such a plot that was scarring the shit out Clark more than the fact that Bruce would actually do this. If he was, that is.

Clark was a grown man, with incredible powers, raised with heartland values and possessed a deep understanding self. Having said all of that, he had felt overwhelmed and entrapped by Bruce's obsession with him. Until he finally found the strength to break free of it, that is. He feared what would happen to someone has affection starved and emotionally fragile as Wally if Bruce turned his obsessive eyes towards him.

Still, he knew he couldn't just level accusations about Bruce's motives without proof. What proof he had involved himself, and events best left to history, and a gut feelings. John and the others may believe Superman's concerns were founded but Wally wouldn't. He sees the best in people, including overgrown white villainous monkeys. So, for Clark to convince Wally that someone he saw as a force for good could be a threat to his safety and sanity, the man of steel was going to need hardcore proof. Or, at least, a voice of reason so powerful that Wally would have no choice but to listen.

Hence Superman's visit to Bludhaven.

No one knew Bruce Wayne like Dick Grayson, no one, not even Alfred. Plus, Dick and Wally where very close friends. Not so much now as during their Teen Titans days, but if Dick thought Wally was in danger he would move Heaven, Earth and Hades to save him. If Dick harbored any concerns about Bruce caring for Wally while he was ill, Dick would voice them and Wally would listen.

Wally almost always listened to John, except when it came to issues like this. John, all of them really, had been livid with Shayera over her betrayal but Wally refused to listen to them about her. He saw the situation for what it was, not what his betrayed emotions, and friends, were telling him to see.

During their discussion over Hawkgirl's fate, Wally had swayed several of their opinions about her, pointing out how hopeless of a situation she was in, still was in. The fate of her entire race versus her sort of friends and a planet of strangers.

Normally, Superman would see such a trait as honorable. Now, he was concerned that Wally's forgiving and hopeful nature would end up blinding him to the truth, instead of helping him see it. Thus getting him into something he'd never be able to get out of.

Dick's warehouse home was empty. Clark knew it would be. It was only four AM, Dick's patrol would be ending soon but Clark wanted to be there before Dick returned.

Ten minutes passed before Dick Grayson, as his alter-ego Nightwing, gracefully dropped down through the sky light. He straightened, for a moment unaware of Clark's presence, then… "What do I owe the honor of a visit from Superman? Slow night in Metropolis?"

Snarky bastard. Dick may not have been Bruce's biological child but Dick was Bruce's offspring nonetheless.

Opting to keep this conversation spandex-professional, Clark decided to do without any small talk, getting straight to the point. "Any reason Flash shouldn't be recuperating in the Cave?"

The younger man's body went rigid. White eyes became razor slim, "Excuse me?"

"Flash was hurt a week or so ago…"

"So, why is he staying with Batman?" Clark knew the tone Dick was using. It was the same one Bruce used whenever Clark had plucked his last nerve.

Clark squared his shoulders.

"About a week ago, Flash was injured during a Justice League mission," Clark explained, "his injuries were worse than originally diagnosed. He almost died because of poor treatment by our medical staff."

Every muscle in Dick's body twitched. Clark knew Dick was already formulating plans of vengeance against the doctors involved. As Dick drew breath, Clark cut him off, "Batman dismissed them. And I assure you, Justice League beneficiary, Wayne Enterprises, will not be giving them good references." Dick relaxed, a bit. "Anyway. After dismissing the staff Batman contacted a friend and he has been relocated to the …cave."

"Flash didn't have much choice in this."

"No, he didn't."

"And that Green Lantern is okay with this."

Clark smiled, "Lantern was more upset about the situation than Batman was. Batman man have earned a few... points with Lantern by terminating the doctors and offering to take Flash in."

"Understandable," Dick replied. Suddenly, the younger man became disturbingly still. Clearly he was milling something over.

"Back to my original …"

Dick snorted a laugh, "Bats doesn't jump in the sack with every avenging, spandex clad freak he runs across," Dick cut in, answering the question Superman hadn't asked, "that privileged was yours, and mine, alone."

Clark wanted to be surprised by the fact that Dick knew about his and Bruce's very brief affair but, for some reason, he wasn't. "Then why was he so adamant about Flash staying with him?"

Dick's smile was pure venom, "Because he's a control freak. That, and he has a soft spot in his heart for orphans," the smile became darker. "He's never touched Robin or Batgirl. I forced his hand…"

Now it was Clark's turn to cut in, "You know better than that."

Dick smiled, "Unlike you, Superman, I know Batman. I know what he will and won't do. I know how to push his buttons, I know how to twist him into knots. If I still wanted him I would still have him."

Clark was stunned. "If you believe that than you are more naïve than I thought possible, Nightwing. Had it ever crossed your mind that Batman realized what he had done and he pushed you away?"

Dick laughed. "Had it ever crossed your mind that he knew what you were going to do and took what he wanted while he could?"

"Yes," Clark replied calmly, "not only had it crossed my mind but it is the truth behind what happened. We are both at peace with it."

Dick's laughter echoed throughout the warehouse. "Oh C'mon, you aren't okay with it and Batman sure as hell isn't. That is why you are here, isn't it? Worried that Flash might be the new light for Batman's psychotic fire?"

"Yes, but not for the reasons you think. You know Flash better than anyone, except for John maybe. Do you really think he could survive a relationship with Batman?"

Dick snorted, "One problem."

"That would be?"

"Flash isn't gay or even bi. And Batman isn't a rapist. If Batman wants him, he wants him for some reason other than sex."

Superman smiled, yes Wing was naïve, amazing. "Had you even considered another man before him. I know I hadn't. You know damn well Batman can supercede an opponent's instinct and desires. He can turn weakness into strength while turning your strengths into weakness. Physical or psychological. Regardless of the reasons Batman may want Flash under his wing, Flash has too many kinks in his barely there armor to be left to overwhelming will and prowess of a man like Batman. "

Dick approached Clark, his eyes locked with the older man's, "Why are you here? Why aren't you telling this to Lantern? You know he'd buy it. He has no great love for Batman. If he even _thought_ Flash was in danger he would jump all over Batman?"

"Because as much as Flash loves and admires Lantern, he knows the man doesn't trust Batman. Flash would write off all of our voiced concerns as overprotective nonsense. He'd dig himself in closer to Batman instead of pulling away in some misguided attempt to prove us wrong and protect him at the same time."

"Damn, you are smart," Dick sneered, "But you are forgetting one thing, Flash knows Batman and I had a falling out years ago. He knows I don't trust him either."

"But he doesn't know why," Superman added.

Livid, Nightwing exploded. "Oh, I get it. You want me to tell Flash I let Batman fuck me when I wasn't much older than he is now? You want me to tell him that there is a pattern and that he is Batman's next victim? Well fuck you, because if I honestly believed that I would have never let Robin stay with him. You know that."

"For crying out loud," Dick continued, "Instead of dealing with your own sexuality you are trying to depict him as some kind serial homosexual-izer bent on turning every man in spandex, queer. "

"This isn't about me…"

"Yes. It. Is. Yes, Batman can be a manipulative son of a bitch, but what went down with you and him was real. Or at least it could have been. Instead dealing, you went running back to Lois. Now, what, you are having second thoughts? You can't let yourself have Batman, but you don't want him with anyone else either. Now, you've pegged Flash as a threat and want me to neutralize it without compromising your manhood to poor, innocent, hero-worshiping Flash! Figure I'd do it too if you made it look like you were more concerned about the kid, when your just being selfish."

With herculean effort, Superman kept his building rage in check, "This is NOT about me. The only fear I have is for Flash. I don't want, nor have I ever really wanted, to be with Batman. Maybe you are the one superimposing your own fears and disappointments…"

"This is a pointless conversation," Dick cut in, "Get out before I throw you out."

Superman came up short. Dick wasn't Bruce, but underestimating Nightwing could yield the same results as underestimating his former mentor. "Fine, but you know as well as I do Flash is in danger. Maybe not physically, but most certainly emotionally. Batman was not responsible for what the Joker did to Robin, but…"

"GET THE HELL OUT!" Nightwing roared as a Batarang, or some redesigned version of it, whizzed by Superman's ear. He had just barely realized Dick was about to throw it before the younger man launched it at him.

Without another word Clark took to the air and sailed through the open sky light. Though he hadn't gained Dick's help, Clark had his answer, Wally was in definite trouble.

In the darkness of his home, Dick sank into his sofa. Breathing exercises and attempts at deep mediation followed but did little to quell his rage… or his concern.


End file.
